


The Valley, part two

by rosymamacita



Series: The Valley [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M, Magic AU, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosymamacita/pseuds/rosymamacita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin was a witch. A world with magic was a world where energy flowed under the earth, runes could calm an anxious heart, and a kiss could make flowers bloom in your mind. Bellamy Blake showed this world of magic to her, and warned her of the ugly side, the magic that dragged you into the depths, or addicted you to power. The dark forces wanting to swallow the light.</p>
<p>Together, they would have to find the dark energy that was hunting them, or forever live in hiding, always at risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valley, part two

Clarke Griffin was a witch. 

She wore no pointy hats. She waved no glowing wand. She brewed no cauldrons of toil, unless you counted her experimentation with Texas chili night, which admittedly had too much spice and made her coven laugh and sputter, and pile on the sour cream.

Clarke Griffin was a witch, and her spirit rode the ley lines, conduits of pure energy running under the town of Arkadia, and when she arose from her travels, her body hummed with power. It drew Bellamy Blake to her and he took her in his arms and together, they released that energy, so the magic could not take her, and spin her out into nothing but a shell.

Bellamy Blake was a witch, and he was her soul mate. He resided inside of her soul and she lived inside of his. Sometimes it gave them both a strange double vision, experiencing things, as they did, from inside of the other person at times of heightened emotion. Bellamy Blake had had to excuse himself more than once, to live through Clarke’s growing fights with her mother, usually about her being not safe and letting strangers into the dangerous world that got her father killed.

Clarke tried to tell her mother as little as possible about the realities of being a witch. In fact, she never told her she was one. All Abby Griffin knew was that the knowledge of the ley lines had gotten her husband killed. And now Clarke knew of them, had all his old family journals about them, and she was worried. She worried most about Bellamy Blake. He was too old. He came from the wrong side of town. He was a bartender. He was a distraction to her studies. He was a stranger. He could expose her secrets. He could get Clarke killed.

Clarke could hide that she was a witch, because whoever believed in witches in this day and age? Certainly not a scientist and surgeon like her mother. But she couldn’t hide Bellamy Blake. She could barely stand to be away from him, so Clarke used words like “dating,” and “seeing him,” and “boyfriend,” even though none of those words explained at all to her mother what Bellamy really was to her. 

From inside of her head, Bellamy would try to calm her down.

-She doesn’t know, Clarke. She doesn’t understand. She’s just worried about you.

The warmth of his existence, the light of love that he gave her almost always calmed Clarke down until she told her mother something or other that would appease her. Something about college coming up, or about Bellamy keeping her safe because he was used to protecting people like his sister. Or about promises that she would never tell Bellamy anything at all about the ley lines ever never never.

She hated the lying most of all. Because she had only met Bellamy because of the ley lines, they had drawn them together, and he was the one who was teaching her about being a witch and what it meant. Bellamy and his sister Octavia and their friend Raven. Her coven. Hereditary witches who had grown up with it, and had knowledge of magic passed down from generations. All she had was the natural ability and her father’s old family journals. 

Bellamy knew she hated the lying. He taught her sigils, that she could draw into her paintings, hung around the house, onto door sills, under rugs, runes that would protect the house and calm the energies. Octavia taught her about potions and brews. Clarke started serving her mother a calming tea, put forth as a nightly ritual where they could catch up on the day together and unwind, but really designed to soothe her fears and release her worries about Clarke. Raven taught her about charms and altars, little ornaments of elemental objects, that could draw confidence or security, and she left them about the house. She gave one to her mother, who wore it on a chain around her neck, a small silver eye, meant to protect her from that thing she had seen in the ley lines, and named ‘Dragon’.

Clarke’s house calmed, with the addition of magic. Her mother began to sing under her breath again, at night as she straightened the house up before bed. She stopped arguing with her about staying safe and isolated. Clarke herself felt more peaceful and at home, as much as she could until Bellamy came knocking on her window each night.

She hated the lying to her mother, but she wasn’t ready for her to know the extent of Clarke’s attachment to Bellamy. And she wasn’t ready to give up making love to him as soon as she saw him every night, sleeping next to him until dawn every morning, being in contact with his hot skin, recharging with his own particular energy, because that was when she truly felt at home. 

Laying in her attic bedroom that night, his arm wrapped around her back and her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his, their bare skin touching, their bodies sweaty and sated, too hot for the covers, she whispered the words to him.

“Have you seen any sign of the dragon?” She always thought about the red, predatory energy that had caught sent of them while they travelled out of body.

He tensed under her. A pause. “No.” His deep voice rumbled through his chest and she felt it more than heard it.

“Maybe it’s gone away,” Clarke said, tracing a pattern on his chest with her finger. A rune of belonging, one that Raven had showed her a when they’d first met. ‘Mine.’

Bellamy laughed and covered his hand with her own. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Clarke. No marks. Anything you mark me with will show up on your skin, and that sundress you’re wearing for your graduation tomorrow is very low cut. Now don’t get me wrong, I love how great your boobs look in that dress, but I don’t think we want anyone to see runes on them.” She’d forgotten that he could read runes, even by touch. “And besides, you don’t need a rune to make me yours. I’m already yours.” He kissed the top of her head. A feeling like springtime flooded her body, green and fresh. Growing and unstoppable. He felt like a beautiful day, and the feeling rolled through her as if she were there. She loved the magic they made when they touched sometimes. She smiled and kissed his hand at it held hers. He shivered with his whole body. 

She leaned up on his chest and looked at him. “Is it too much?” she asked. “Do you need to release the magic?”

They had to be careful that he didn’t hold it all in sometimes. It was a hard habit to break for him, his almost suffocating hold on the energies, developed after years of trying to keep the magic that had killed his mother at bay. When he held it in too long, it exploded in unpredictable ways, or tried to drag him out into the depths.

“No,” he said, his voice husky. “No, I’m okay, besides…” he put a hand behind her head, tangling in her hair and drew her lips to his. At contact, she felt the spring sunshine burst in her mind, she smelled lilacs and heard bees buzzing. Her mouth fell open to his tongue in surprise and springtime blossomed into lushness, a wild garden, growing, blooming from the dark earth.

She gasped and pulled back. “You did that!” she said. “You gave me Spring. Where did that come from? How did you learn it?”

He smiled, slow and sultry, practically glowing. “You mentioned something once about seeing the magic as, like, forces of weather. I wondered if I could give you a beautiful day.”

“Was that a memory?”

He shook his head, and pulled her back to him. “Not exactly. I made it out of memories, but I used the elements. The movement of the air, the warmth of the sun, the fertility of the earth, the life of the water. I wove them together. And that’s what I came up with.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she said. “What’s it for?”

“Nothing. I just love you.” He kissed her forehead and roses bloomed in her mind.

His touch, his words and his magic made her dizzy. “You’d better stop it, Bellamy, or I am going to paint flowers up and down my arms and the magic will make them appear on yours, and you will be forced to live with daisies and roses all over you while trying to flirt better tips out of your customers.”

“Do you not like it?”

Her heart fluttered. She liked everything about him. “I do. I just am having a hard time keeping it in. I’m feeling compelled to bloom.”

He sighed and kissed her lips. No flowers this time. “I need to stop anyway. I should go. Your mother will be up in a few hours to take you to your graduation breakfast. You need to get some sleep.”

“Who needs sleep when I’m full of your magic?” she asked and her voice was husky.

“Uh uh,” he said, and tapped her nose. “None of that. You know that the magic makes demands. Your body needs to eat and to sleep or the balance is disturbed. I’m not losing you to the magic, Clarke. I love you too much.”

“I love you, too, that’s why you should stay, so we can be together, and love,” she grumbled. “Abby won’t be in before dawn.”

“I love you whether I’m with you or not,” he said and rolled out from under her and stood up, pulling on his pants. “So I’m going to go, let you get rest. And I’ll see you tomorrow at graduation.”

“But Bellamy,” Clarke whined, using *that* voice. “That will be graduation and we will have to go out to lunch with my mother. You’re going to be stuck with her too and we’re going to have to pretend that we’re just dating.”

“Princess, your mother knows we’re sleeping together. She’s yelled at you plenty for letting an older man taking advantage of you. I know. You always get upset and then I’m inside your head hearing what an evil guy she thinks I am.”

Clarke jumped out of bed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Stop. You know that’s not true. You know that’s not what’s going on. Don’t you dare—“

“Relax, Clarke. You don’t have to defend me against me.”

“Yes, I do, if you think you’re taking advantage of me.” 

He looked off into the shadows of peaked ceiling. She’d been inside of his head, too. She knew he thought he’d dragged her into this magic business, into the danger and the addictive pull of it. She knew that he thought he’d drawn the dragon to her, that shadowy presence that they didn’t like to talk about but knew still lurked somewhere. She knew he thought she was too young for him and they never should have gotten involved, let alone made love. But he really had no choice in the matter, and neither did she. He felt guilt for that, too, although it wasn’t his fault at all the magic had pulled them together and she was forever grateful for it. 

“Bellamy,” she said, seriously.

“Okay,” he gave in, looking at her sadly. “That’s not what’s going on. Your defense has succeeded. I am chastened.” He kissed her lightly and unwrapped her arms from around his neck. He grabbed his shirt from the foot of her bed. “But I’m still going to go.”

Clarke grabbed his hand and sat down on the bed. She looked up at him through lashes. “Bellamy…” she said.

Bellamy threw a button down at her. It was his. She’d stolen it from him months ago. “If you want to talk to me, you’re going to have to cover up.” 

She sighed and shrugged it on, leaving it hanging open. 

“You think you’re funny?” He asked, and started buttoning the shirt up, his eyes dark and his skin flushed. She loved that he still wanted her, even after they’d already made love. She knew that she could seduce him if she wanted to, make him change his mind with some determined fingers and and some sultry looks. But she also knew that they’d come to terms with respect for each other, and he’d made his decisions, even if she didn’t like it.

She leaned back on her hands and let her head fall back, “Ugh, Bellamy,” she groaned.

“Clarke stop it,” he choked out. She looked at him, startled, to see him staring at her with that look, clenching and unclenching his hands. 

She could, easily.

But she wouldn’t. She sat up and reached for his hand again. “Bellamy I want to move in with you.”

“What?” 

That did it. It hadn’t been her intention, but it sure shocked Bellamy out of giving in to more sex. She was almost insulted by how shocked he was. She could feel it thrumming through her own veins.

She snorted. “Well excuse me!” She rolled off of the other side of the bed and went to her closet, pulling on the rattiest and oldest pair of sweats she had. “I didn’t think I would offend you so much.” She turned away from him, dabbing at the tears in her eyes and trying to hold in how much it hurt her that he didn’t want her to live with him. She did not want him getting inside her head on this one. She recited a centering mantra that Bellamy had taught her. He had meant it to help her stay in her body, not close him out from her strong emotions, but it worked for that too.

Maybe not today.

He was suddenly there, turning her around and pressing her into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her and holding her, kissing her temple and making flowers bloom.

“No, Clarke, no. That’s not what I meant. It’s not that I don’t want you to be with me, to live with me. It’s that you deserve so much better. You deserve a real life. Be a kid, go to college—“

“That’s why I want to live with you,” Clarke exclaimed. “I’m leaving in the fall and I can’t bear to not have you with me until then. I can’t bear to have you sneaking in the window anymore, to not admit to the world, to my mother that you’re my life—“

“Dammit Clarke, no. You can’t. You have to have a real life. Not this. Not me. You’re going to college and you’re going to be a real person, okay?”

“This is real life!” Clarke exploded. “This is more real than anything else I’ve ever experienced. And it’s you. I don’t want to leave to go to college. Octavia is staying here and going to Arkadian University. I can do that, too.”

“Do you want me to get angry at Octavia again for not working hard enough to earn a scholarship to a real school?”

“Arkadian is a real school. It’s a good school. You just think everything here is wrong because of the magic. You think it’s—“

“It’s dangerous, is what it is Clarke. For all of us. It was dangerous before we knew that dragon was out there looking for us and it’s even more dangerous now. And I want you and Octavia out of this town. You are not staying here. You’re going to Columbia, like you had already planned. I’d send Octavia after you if I could. But she was too busy running around town like a delinquent to get the grades needed. But you, you need to have a real life.”

“I need you, Bellamy,” she said, leaning into him and kissing the skin at the crook of his neck, pressing into him the feeling in her heart. She opened up to him, and let him in. “I love you.” Together she thought, felt, believed. Together was what she needed.

And he was there, with her. Inside of her. She felt his heartbeat as her own. His longing for her. He wanted the same thing, but he was so afraid. She wrapped him in her faith in him. “We need each other.”

He sighed. “Fine. Clarke. Will you live with me this summer?”

She gasped in joy. “Yes!”

“Until school starts. I won’t let you give up your life for me. And you have to ask your mother. She’s not going to be happy.”

“I’m eighteen, Bellamy. I’m an adult.”

Bellamy snorted.

“I am,” she slapped at his arm. “And I love you. This isn’t some teen puppy love, Bellamy and you know it. This is it. You and me. We couldn’t stop if we wanted to. And I don’t want to,” she said. Then she pulled back, suddenly afraid. “Do you want to? Stop, I mean. If you could break this connection between us, would you?” she searched his face, terrified.

He tilted his head at her, “Clarke,” he said, so sadly. The fear started to rise in her and she knew he could feel it. 

“Stop, stop,” he said. She could see her own panic in his face. She’d pulled him in again. She had no control right now. He didn’t want to be with her. He was forced by the magic but he didn’t want her. The panic rose like a black, sticky tide. 

And then his mouth was on hers and she was filled with light, Spring, green things and flowers. He stopped kissing her and the flowers slowly faded. “Are you back?” he asked, his deep brown eyes warm on hers. 

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I never thought that you may not want this with me.” The heartbreak tried to rise through the fading flowers but she pushed it down. She wouldn’t. She refused to force him to be something to her that he didn’t want to be. She would learn to control it if it killed her.

“God Clarke!” he shouted. “How could you think that? How could you think I’m not all in it with you? That I don’t want this with you? Can’t you feel it? Don’t you believe in me?”

Clarke gasped, realizing she possibly had stopped breathing a few minutes before. She pushed him off of her, and shoved him into the closet door. It slammed against the wall. “How could you make me think you were being forced into something you don’t want with me? I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t want you if it wasn’t what you wanted.” A sob tore through her throat.

“No,” he said, and spun her until she was the one pressed up against the door. “How could you think I didn’t want this? That’s what made me sad, not the way I feel about you, that you doubt me.”

“Oh,” she said. And she was immediately sad. “Oh. I’m sorry.” She reached up to pull his lips down to hers. “No magic this time, just us, okay?’

He nodded and his lips met hers, soft, willing. So loving that she filled with golden light like honey. Sweet and pure. “No magic, Bellamy.”

“I’m not using any.” He smiled against her lips and kept kissing her.


End file.
